25. The Only Way Forward
Chapter twenty-five
The Only Way Forward
After weeks in the Southern Territories, we have seemingly failed in our task of securing an alliance.
As we pack our belongings and prepare to leave, we notice a shift in the sky.
Suddenly, it turns from bright and lively to dark and grim. The once vibrant streets are now tense and chaotic. The vendors are hastily packing up their booths in a panic, while men scramble to board up windows and fill bags with sand.
“What's going on?” I ask, looking at the three men around me, hoping for an explanation.
“I don’t know, but something’s freaking them out,” Ash mutters, his tone carrying a hint of frustration.
“I gathered that,” I shoot Ash a pointed glance, irritated at his non-answer.
Oberon doesn’t speak. He merely scans the area, his eyes sharp, analyzing the growing tension around us.
Zander is the one who finally breaks the silence. “There’s a storm coming.”
“So?” Ash shrugs, unconcerned. “There are always storms. You don’t see me freaking out.”
Zander’s eyes narrow. “Then you’ve never seen what they’re about to face.”
Oberon steps forward, his voice calm but demanding. “What are they about to face?”
“A hurricane,” Zander explains, his tone serious, every word deliberate.
“It’s a violent and powerful storm, unlike anything you’ve seen away from the sea's edge. It’s a force of nature that destroys with no mercy, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake.
It’s as if the ocean herself is taking vengeance on the land. ”
None of us responds right away, letting the gravity of Zander’s words sink in. Even Ash, who usually has something snide to say, is unnervingly quiet. Oberon speaks first, his voice low but urgent. “When will it be here?”
Zander glances at the sky, his expression grim. “By the looks of it and the panic in the people . . . I’d say a few hours, tops.”
Ash’s voice cuts through the air with an edge of impatience. “Then let’s get the hell out of here!”
Oberon’s gaze snaps to him, hard. “No. We stay, and we help in any way we can.” He turns to me, his eyes searching mine for agreement. I nod in response, and without another word, we make our way back to the house where we were staying to prepare.
Once we are inside, Oberon turns to Ash with a hard, direct question. “Ash, can you do anything? Can you stop it?”
Ash hesitates for a moment. His usual sarcasm is gone, replaced by a quiet seriousness. “No. I don’t think I can.”
The male who can bend space and time . . . can’t stop a storm?
My surprise must show, because Oberon, who was silently observing, raises an eyebrow and places his fingers to his face in deep thought.
“Oberon,” I ask, trying to gather my thoughts, “What’s our next move?”
He looks to Zander. “How big are these storms? What kind of devastation are we looking at?”
Zander gives a reluctant shrug. “I can’t give you an exact answer. These things are massive, usually travel up the coastline for hundreds, if not thousands, of miles, claiming everything in its path.”
Oberon’s expression hardens, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. “We need to send a warning. Immediately. To all the southern villages.”
“How can we get the word that far, that fast?” I ask, the urgency of the situation setting in.
A brief moment of silence passes before Ash finally speaks. “I can go.” His voice is steady but resigned. “I can travel to each village leader and make sure they’re aware of the threat.”
I know there will be risks with that plan. “No, Ash. We need you here. If you make all those jumps, won’t that exhaust you? You’ll be less effective here.”
Ash doesn’t respond immediately, but I can see the conflict in his eyes. I already know the answer. Our best defense is his power, and we can’t afford to waste it.
Zander shifts his weight, his eyes catching mine. “What’s your ability?” I ask, turning to him, curiosity growing.
Zander gives me a side-long glance, his lips curling into a small, amused smirk. “Not everyone is as magically gifted as others,” he replies, a hint of pride in his voice.
I know just how dangerous Zander is in hand-to-hand combat, but hearing his words, it is clear that he doesn’t need powerful magic to be a threat.
Ash breaks the tension with a sigh. “Guess we’re back to Plan A.”
Oberon’s voice is sharp. “Ash, be quick. Spread the message and get back here.”
Without a word, Ash waves his hand, and a portal shimmers into existence before him. He steps through, disappearing in an instant.
Oberon’s demeanor shifts, and he slips into full commander mode. He issues orders with calm precision: Zander is to help with boarding up homes and preparing defenses, I am to assist any women and children who need supplies, and Oberon will speak with the leaders of the village.
Several hours go by before the hurricane arrives, and we use every second we can to prepare.
With a deafening roar, it is here, a force of nature so violent it seems to tear the very air apart. The sky, once ominously dark, now swirls with an unnatural fury, streaked with flashes of violent lightning that turn the landscape into a chaotic, blinding spectacle.
The wind howls like a thousand wailing voices, whipping through the trees and tearing the earth itself asunder. It feels as if the world is being ripped at the seams.
With the devastating hurricane's fury only growing, Zander and I push ourselves to the brink, guiding as many people as we can toward the shelter Oberon designated.
But the storm is already awakening in full force.
Trees bow and snap like brittle twigs, roofs peel away from homes, and the howling wind carries debris like lethal projectiles. And this is only the beginning.
Down the street, a blinding flash of lightning splits the sky, striking an ancient oak with a deafening crack.
I watch in horror as the massive trunk splits, its upper half teetering, ready to crash down.
Below, a family sprints, unaware of the danger looming above them. My heart slams against my ribs.
They won’t make it.
I open my mouth to scream, Run! Look up! but my voice is lost, devoured by the monstrous winds. Panic claws at my chest.
Just as the tree gives in to gravity, a surge of shadows whips past me, black tendrils moving like a living storm within the storm. In a heartbeat, they coil around the falling tree, catching it just before it can crush the unsuspecting family. My breath hitches.
I spin, searching for the source, and find him.
Soaked to the bone, his stygian eyes burn with fierce determination.
Around him, his shadows stretch in all directions, weaving through the chaos, seeking out those who have yet to find safety.
Some lash out, swallowing jagged bolts of lightning before they can strike homes.
Others brace entire buildings on the verge of collapse, giving families precious seconds to escape.
His power is everywhere, unstoppable, untamed, a force of nature against the storm itself.
As we work, Oberon uses his shadows to create a safe point for those closest to the storm.
His magic engulfs a large structure, likely a town hall, transforming it into a makeshift shelter.
His orders shift, his focus now entirely on protecting the villagers.
“Bring everyone you can to the center. We’re going to keep them safe. ”
There is no hesitation. Zander and I move quickly, guiding the most vulnerable through the wreckage, shielding them from the storm’s wrath however we can. There is no time to waste, no space for doubt.
Shadows weave around me, cold and alive with purpose, each one saving a life. Oberon strides through the wreckage like a god of the tempest, his magic bending the hurricane’s destruction, holding back devastation wherever he can.
And we will not let him stand alone. Zander is a blur of motion beside me, defying the storm’s fury, ripping debris from our path as though it weighs nothing, hauling the injured from danger, never once slowing. Together, we fight, exhaustion gnawing at our limbs but never stopping us.
By the time we reach the shelter, panting and battered, hope is a fragile thing in our chests. We scan the gathered survivors, searching for any sign of those we may have missed, praying we have gotten everyone to safety.
But outside, the storm rages on. And so does Oberon.
Somewhere beyond the chaos, beyond the howling winds and the breaking world, I can only hope Ash is okay, too.
The sea, once a calm and placid expanse, has turned into an endless, crashing wall of water.
Waves as high as mountains surge violently toward the shore, driven by the storm’s relentless force.
The ocean is no longer a tranquil companion to the land.
It is a beast, angry and unforgiving, roaring in unison with the wind, the storm's true weapon. It howls across the land, uprooting trees with ease, their roots torn from the ground. Buildings that have stood for generations are no match for the hurricane’s wrath, crumbling under the pressure of the mighty beast.
The stench of destruction hangs in the air.
The storm seems to echo with the ocean’s rage, each gust of wind a new insult to the land, each crash of thunder an ominous promise of more destruction to come.
The world feels like it is coming to an end, nature itself turning against those who dare to stand in its path.